Hermione pointed her wand at the last of the boxes, and with a "Wingardium leviosa!" sent it through the open window of the house. She caught Ron smiling at her, love overflowing from his eyes.
"What?" She asked, returning his smile.
"Wingardium leviosa." He replied simply.
And with that they were kissing. They stumbled up the front steps of their new home, a cottage in Godric's Hollow, pausing briefly so that Ron could scoop Hermione into his arms and carry her over the threshold. Inside, they fell onto the couch together, still kissing. These kisses were different from those they had had back in the war. When you knew that Voldemort was hunting you, that your friends and family were dying, that you might not have long left together, every kiss was hard and passionate, as if it was the last one you would ever have. But now they were safe. Curled together on the couch, their kisses were softer, gentler, but somehow more loving.
"Shall we go upstairs," Ron whispered in Hermione's ear, "Or shall we stay down here and unpack?"
Hermione considered for a moment. She knew that they really ought to organise the house, but she was so comfortable lying against her boyfriend's chest. With a sigh, she sat up. Ron began to pull open the box nearest to the couch and lift out piles of plates wrapped in old editions of the Daily Prophet. Hermione laughed at him, pulling out her wand. As she swept it across the room, the boxes began to unpack themselves.
Ron ducked his head to avoid a swarm of cutlery flying towards the kitchen and looked at her sheepishly. "So… Upstairs?"
When he awoke the next morning, it took Ron a moment to remember where he was. There was a loud, repetitive tapping sound somewhere around his left ear and something soft and warm next to- Oh. He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Hermione, snuggled under his arm, still blissfully asleep. He took a moment to gaze lovingly at the small smile playing at her lips before he eased gently out of the bed and over to the window to let in the owl with the Daily Prophet. As he slid a knut into the leather pouch on the owl's leg, he heard a rustling behind him.
"Good morning," Hermione smiled up at him. "Breakfast?"
They were downstairs eating toast when Ron remembered the paper. He knew that Hermione liked to read it over breakfast, and telling her where he was going he slipped upstairs to get it.
When Ron still hadn't returned 10 minutes later, Hermione followed him back to the bedroom. She found him sitting on the bed, white with shock. The paper was still in his hands. Carefully picking it up, she glanced at the front cover – and gasped with shock.
The Chosen One: Chose wrong?
Harry Potter, the boy who lived has reportedly left his fiancée Ginevra Weasley two months before their wedding for old flame Cho Chang.
"Cho Chang! Ridiculous!" Hermione burst out. "Surely you don't believe it, Ron?"
Ron gestured for her to keep reading, shaking his head dazedly.
Last night Potter was seen leaving his home in Godric's Hollow for Chang's Playwitch mansion. When questioned, Chang said, "It's a private matter between Harry and myself. We belong together. That's all the world needs to know."
Continued on pages 2-9.
Hermione skimmed the rest of the article as quickly as she could. There was no doubt, she realised. Harry had left Ginny for Cho Chang, the slutzilla of wizarding Britain. They had even quoted him confessing his undying love for her. She looked up at Ron, whose ears had gone red with anger.
"I'll kill him," He muttered, "I swear I'll kill him."
"Ron!" Hermione gasped. "We have to go to Ginny. Now!"
They apparated outside Ginny and Harry's house on the other side of town 10 minutes later, when they were both wearing a decent amount of clothing. Hermione approached the front door cautiously and knocked once. There was no response.
"Ginny? She called tentatively.
The door was suddenly wrenched open. Ginny stood in front of them, her hair sticking out crazily around her face, which was red from crying. She grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her inside. Ron followed apprehensively just before Ginny slammed the door so hard that both of the coloured glass panes at the top fell out. Once the door had been quickly repaired they moved through to the living room so that Ginny could sit down before her shaking legs gave out. Hermione sat next to her friend on the couch, and Ron sat opposite them on the edge of an armchair. He was still no good with emotions and he felt increasingly nervous with the situation. After a few minutes of complete silence Hermione seemed to decide that she ought to say something.
"Er... Ginny? We saw the Prophet and, um-"
That was all it took to set Ginny off. Much to Ron's surprise, she flung herself into his arms and sobbed. He patted her back awkwardly, but then he seemed to suddenly realise what she needed and he hugged her tightly, rocking her back and forth. When her sobs had stopped, she climbed out of her brother's arms and gave him a small smile. Hermione looked relieved to see that Ginny seemed a little better. Ginny was, after all, rarely weepy and to see her so upset was quite worrying.
"I am going to kill that git, Ginny." Ron muttered.
Ginny fixed him with a glare. "I can handle my own problems, Ronald. Actually, I need to go. I have to strangle that complete bitch with her own g-string bunny suit." Her voice was beginning to creep towards hysteria again.
"Yeah, well, I'm coming with you. I need to curse someone and it had better be him."
"Actually," Hermione said suddenly, "I don't think that's such a good idea, Ron."
"Why not?" Ron replied savagely.
"Because," said Hermione, lifting up a box of chocolates, "Maybe Harry isn't under his own free will."
